They're Senshi, and That's Why They Need To Die
by Pale Wolf
Summary: To save Akane, Ranma reached deep into himself. But it wasn't just a miracle that he pulled out. Ranma and Sailor Moon crossover.


Disclaimer:No copyright is mine, thus no copyrighted character is.

Warnings:Brutal and plain, there's some distinctly uncomfortable stuff these people do to one another.

Oh, and the writer's a hack.

Because They're Senshi. That's Why They Need to Die.

By Pale Wolf

Chapter One

The Price of Red

---------------------------------

Her body was warm against his arms.

But it was rapidly cooling.

He screamed her name.

He screamed every word that came to mind. What he felt for her, why she couldn't die, how he felt that she _had_.

He was well-trained in the medical arts. He performed every single technique he could think of - twice.

Anyone else he _could_ have saved.

But not her.

He couldn't save her because-

-------------------------------

In most scenarios, this is where the main character snaps to a sitting position in a cold sweat. But Saotome Ranma was not sweating. Nor did he move at all from his curled up position in bed. He merely opened his eyes.

Without moving, he quickly took in everything. His futon, the covers twisted around and clutched in his hands. The dresser right in front of his face.

One breathing human in the room. Female, young - Akane, clutching P-chan on her bed and probably _still_ wired on 'I'm Watching You, Pervert' mode.

Good. These unsettling dreams were the lie. The reality was that he _had_ saved her at Jusendo. Every night since then, that nagging sensation of... _loss_ came over him in his dreams, and he always had to confirm that the girl he... sort of liked... was really okay. That it wasn't this happiness that was the dream.

His lips curved into an amused smile. It had taken him a week of sleeping in Akane's room to learn to keep still. Her actual martial abilities were way lower than anyone who trained seriously, but her 'Pervert Detector' was top-class. It worked even while she was sleeping! If he even moved, he'd have some kind of heavy object hurled at his head, probably followed by pretty much everything on Akane's side of the room.

He loved how she got so pissed so fast, how she always assumed he was out to get her. It was funny!

He chuckled to himself, just so the sound and motion would set her off and start his floor show.

-----------------------

How Saotome Ranma and Tendo Akane came to be sharing a bedroom is a long, involved tale.

But if one starts after their most recent failed attempt at a wedding, the story becomes much shorter.

Saotome Nodoka.

For some, that's answer enough. But for those not among them...

The latest hare-brained plan to 'unite the schools' was actually much less hare-brained than most. 'Guy and girl in same living quarters, let nature take its course', or something along those lines. Or, as Nodoka had phrased it, 'He's so manly she'll never be able to resist him!'

Good plan, if one didn't take into account that they'd been sharing the same living space for the better part of two years and nature had yet to take its course.

That aside...

The plan was the easy part. Getting the parties involved to consent to it was harder.

Well, Ranma hadn't been too hard. A little pressure from his mother, and, eager to please her, he'd do whatever she asked.

Akane... The parents of the children involved had decided to use her 'I'm the best martial artist in Nerima' fixation. But what to convince her? How about the Saotome Forbidden Techniques that had beaten even Ranma in battle?

Strange as it was to see Genma as the advocate of morality, he had eventually caved, somewhere between 'We must unite the schools, Saotome!' and '_Hus_band, if he's not manly...' The techniques were listed on paired scrolls the next day.

Soun was the only one who really liked the deal. Genma did it out of necessity, and despite what it may seem, Nodoka did as well. She thought the dear girl _learning_ such things was horribly unsuitable, but at least her manly son could keep her from _using_ them!

The trade with Akane had been simple enough. Every time she cooperated with the parents against her own wishes, she would be taught one technique from either scroll. She was still working on the Mouko Kaimon Ha whenever she bothered to go into the dojo. The bricks were truly learning to fear her name.

And Ranma's skull was wearing thin after a mere week.

----------------------

"PERVERT!"

Before anyone makes any analysis of this situation, note that Ranma was still asleep.

Now remember the basic elements of the technique Akane is being taught.

... Something about a shout?

While she hadn't gotten the technique down yet, she _did_ know that the words of the shout didn't matter, so she'd changed Ryu's 'Don't move' to something better-suiting her nature.

More to the point, she'd taken to using Ranma as a portable practice dummy. Martial arts wasn't something she was actually talented at, but she'd taken Ranma's 'turn daily actions into training' philosophy to heart, and practicing any technique as frequently as she did now made getting it to her satisfaction a much quicker process.

So Ranma took an amateur Yama Sen Ken technique to the chest, throwing him out the window of Akane's room. A rather less comfortable awakening, being punted out instead of thrown by Genma, he reflected. It was fun to see her take to her training with such gusto.

Speaking of whom...

"She got you again, boy! Sloppy!"

As per the new routine, his father was waiting outside. In defiance of his bulk, the large man shot up into the air, launching a flurry of attacks as soon as Ranma came into range. The younger Saotome had recovered in time, however, to meet all of those with blocks.

--------------------

Saotome Nodoka smiled as she watched her husband and son bounce around the Tendou yard. They were both so manly!

She had done well in letting Genma take their son.

Still, pride at a job well done aside, she had something to tell them... after breakfast. Manly men need to eat, after all! And that only when they were finished with their spar - a man's schedule should not be interrupted simply because a woman had mistimed her cooking!

A frown flitted across her face as Tendou Kasumi stepped onto the patio next to her, as she had every day since Nodoka had begun living there.

Dusting her hand on her apron - Nodoka found doing this in public disgusting, a woman should always be impeccable - and taking a breath for what would seem the precise length of time to get Ranma and Genma over the koi pond, if Nodoka were not _sure_ it had to be a complete accident, Kasumi called out, "Saotome-san, Ranma-kun, breakfast!" She really had to work on that - it was completely improper to expect such manly men to follow a woman's schedule.

A nonhuman husband and a female son crawled out of the pond, Ranma pulling one of the fish from behind his ear and whispering an apology to it - something Nodoka would have to have to have a talk with him about, real men didn't apologize, _especially_ not to mere animals - before tossing it back in.

As her manly daughter followed his father, Nodoka became aware of Kasumi's attention - barely noticeable, but even as the brown-haired girl went into the main room, her attention seemed fixed on how Ranma's wet shirt hugged his womanly body, if only through the corner of her eyes, slightly glazed in disgust. Nodoka would have to speak with the girl about that - remind her that regardless of appearances, Ranma was as manly as ever even after cold water.

--------------------

Sugiura Midori was normal.

She wouldn't use that word to describe herself - 'stunning', 'brilliant', those were more common, and not even beginning to delve into her interest in botany...

But, really, though unique and special in her own way, she i_was_/i normal. She was human, in decent physical condition, approximately average in looks and intelligence, possessing only one trait that was particularly abnormal, and her life does not factor in to the greater scheme of things in any way at all.

Except for the man before her. And that _one_ abnormal trait.

Tall, muscular, with flame-red hair, he classed for unusual merely by being a clear foreigner in Japan - specifically the Juuban ward of Tokyo. He was unusual in many more ways than mere ethnicity, the least of which was his name: Uriel StarFire.

But levels of normality were not on either of their minds, nor were each other's names.

Midori's mind was mainly on the topic of getting around this strange man so she could get to college, and her speech reflected that. "I am sorry sir, but I'm in a hurry. I need to go."

Uriel nodded with a smile, patting her on the shoulder as he walked past.

Midori was more focused on the forwardness of the gesture, and reminding herself that he was an American with different manners than her, so she should _not_ make a scene and yell at him.

So she could be excused for missing a slight tickle as something metallic touched her neck - just for an instant, after Uriel had passed to wherever he was going.

She wasn't going to be normal for much longer. But she _would_ start describing herself that way.

------------------------

Far away from any concept of the word normal ('Norman?' most of the locals had asked when hearing that word), Ranma grinned as he ducked an umbrella swing from Hibiki Ryouga. He hadn't seen the guy for over a week, so he wasn't quite sure what the latest grievance was...

Way closer that time. Looked like his sparring partner had got wind of the sleeping arrangements at the Tendou Dojo.

It may actually be a bit more fun than usual, if the anger sharpened the pig-boy up any.

In a moment of the idle curiousity that tends to strike when one is rapidly weaving around attacks, Ranma wondered why his 'rival' was so angry all the time - even before doing anything to him, Ryouga was ready to treat a stolen pack of bread like a killing offence.

Eh. It made him fun! Not to mention it kept him around for Ranma to practice against.

_Un_fortunately, it also made him careless. Specifically of bystanders. Like Yuka, whose life Ranma had just saved by snagging a wild bandanna out of the air.

Not really caring that he was going to be missing classes, Ranma darted away from the tree where he ate lunch and turned back to face Ryouga. "Here piggy piggy piggy!"

"Damn you Saotome, stop calling me that and die!" Ryouga bellowed - he didn't really 'talk' much, to be honest - as he charged, slinging bandannas into his left hand.

"Make me! Bi_daa_!" That last action should need no description. Then he turned and ran.

"Gladly!" Ryouga ran after him.

He managed to stay in Tokyo for a full ten minutes.

------------------------

Honestly.

The pervert wouldn't have had to be holding buckets right now if he didn't pick on Ryouga so much.

Tendou Akane had half a mind to beat both of them over the head with something large and blunt...

Nah, Ryouga was a sweetie, even though Ranma got him so mad. He didn't deserve it.

Ranma, on the other hand...

Ugh, she got mad just _thinking_ about how he could get! He could cruelly demean her sense of deserved pride without any provocation - insulting her looks, her attitude, her heavenly cooking... So she'd never had the pleasure of tasting it, she couldn't take any of that away from those she made it for!

He _always_ cheated whenever they sparred, unable to accept how that, even with all his training, she was still better - after all, his father was teaching _her_ the Forbidden Techniques, not _him_! He could never keep up with her without cheating - look at how well he did outside those spars! And even though she was better, he always hogged the fights, even when he was losing.

And he was a pervert! Just look at that curse, of course he took advantage of that poor girl's body! And he strung along three women too stupid to see what he was really like - they were just lucky she'd been able to protect them so far. But worst was what he wanted of her pure body! Hot oils, candle wax, red hair... It was disgusting!

Yeah... but he had called her cute a few times...

She smiled dreamily.

And he helped back her up, was almost a real 'knight in shining armour'...

It was too bad she saw that so rarely - it was always the pervert.

Not only did she have to share a room with him at home, now...

His family was moving back to the Saotome home... and taking her with them! Nodoka had announced that, cheerily flashing a bit of steel, right after breakfast.

She'd be stuck in a house with a raging pervert, his sweet but demented mother - who knows _what_ he'd done to warp that poor woman - and his useless father. No one to protect her!

She flushed... then rapidly shook her head and refocused on Ninomiya Hinako's lesson.

At least she got the Dokuja Tanketsu Shou out of it.

It's not hard to keep perspective when learning severely overpowered martial arts techniques, after all.

--------------------------------

Ranma yawned, walking along the corridor to Akane's room. She was busily mauling her fingers against her bricks in an attempt to pick up her new technique, the Mouko Kaimon Ha apparently forgotten.

For his part, he was tired. There was something weighing against his mind, sapping his energy. Add to that his generally exciting days, and he was beat. His futon was looking more seductive than Shampoo right now.

He reached the door with the duck nameplate, and slid it open, sidestepping on instinct just in case.

No traps tonight. Good start.

He shuffled in, not bothering to shut the door behind him, and flopped onto his futon.

Closing his eyes, he was asleep in moments.

But it wasn't Ranma that woke up.

-----------------------------

Chiba Mamoru was a morning person. Part of that involved skill in deflecting glares of death from non-morning-people, but the more relevant aspect to his being a morning person lay in the fact that he was taking a walk in the mostly-abandoned park this morning.

Sugiura Midori was _not_ a morning person. At least, he assumed not, given the bags under her eyes and general 'zombie' like behaviour.

Having known her as an underclassman in college, he stepped onto the path she was shuffling along, a greeting on his lips. After all, that look _couldn't_ be doing much for her social life.

Before he could actually get around to uttering said greeting, he tripped in the grass. Blinking in confusion, he looked at his foot.

As it turned out, he _hadn't_ been channelling his destined love - the grass _was_ tangled and overgrown. Very much so.

His eyes narrowed.

Ridiculously so, in fact, considering he'd walked this park just yesterday right after it was trimmed.

He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and flipped it open, a finger on the speed dial - the thing was a bloody necessity for superheroes who didn't have fancy feline-acrobatics-produced communicators.

A rasping sound drew his gaze back to Midori. Her breathing had gotten ragged, and she was starting to waver on her feet.

Her blank gaze locked onto Mamoru, the only person in this area of the park.

He shivered. There was no light in her eyes. It was like being eyed by a corpse - given his extracurricular activities, he actually _did_ have experience with that, but that was _not_ an inspiring memory.

A moment where creeped-out blue eyes were held by blank brown...

Then she toppled forward, her face cushioned by the thick mat of grass.

Holding a hand over his heart to try and slow the damn thing down, Mamoru dared to breathe.

So naturally, that was when the grass started shooting up, weaving together like lace until it formed the outline of a human being.

Female, of course. What monster in Juuban wasn't? And yes, this one made it very obvious.

It also extended tendrils of grass towards him.

He lept back.

Dammit! He was the rescue in the nick of time, not the first line of defense!

And weren't the tentacle monsters supposed to go after girls?

He smacked his forehead, hit the speed dial and pulled out his rose.

---------------------------

Meiou Setsuna frowned.

Contrary to popular belief, she was not all-knowing, nor did she believe herself to be such. The Time Gates did not show her everything.

She was, however, more-knowing than pretty much anyone else. And this particular monster attack seemed to violate the youma pattern - a single victim in a deserted area sounded more like a vampire legend than Juuban monsters, who preferred to drain large masses at once... excepting their hunter-type opponents.

Her eyes widened.

_That_ was the pattern. Hunters. The battle was upon them.

Right around now she regretted having claimed there would be no more serious threats - yes that hope pushed the Senshi for the last mile against Sailor Galaxia, but it also put them off guard.

She shook her head. No use regretting. And she'd had to worry about getting her wards this far before solving the problem of getting past it.

They shouldn't attack in force. Not so soon. Not many of them were that aggressive.

So when this skirmish was done...

She'd tell them everything. About the origin of the Star Seeds... the true nature of Sailor Senshi... and the Hunters. About the limits of her power.

And she'd have to get rid of 'him', too.

Tapping her intercom, she requested that the girls who comprised the Senshi be excused from class.

--------------------------

Tomoe Hotaru did not really enjoy car rides with her 'father', Tenou Haruka. On one hand, the excitement was wonderful - the small girl craved excitement, as her life prior to the last two years had been an exercise in dreariness.

On the other hand, her stomach was, like the rest of her, weak.

As it turned out, rapid deployment at the expense of temporarily disabled personnel was a bad idea, Sailor Saturn reflected, clutching at her much-strengthened-but-still-queasy stomach as she watched the others fight. She'd tried to fight like that - like most physically inferior individuals, she compensated for her disability with raw willpower - but getting crucified up against the nearest tree by three blades of grass in the first five seconds managed to convince her to hang back until she could move at least at her _normal_ limited level.

The monster wasn't extremely powerful or anything, just... troublesome. Primarily it used tendrils of razor-sharp (Saturn brushed gloved fingers over the healed wound in her right shoulder at the thought) grass. If it had any other abilities, it wasn't deigning to show them.

The problem wasn't a surfeit of offensive ability, although it _was_ precise and strong with that grass. The problem was that it was hanging over the young woman who was fainted on the path. It never moved more than a meter and a half away from her. So the big attacks were utterly out of the question, and Sailor Moon was reduced to throwing her tiara at it - it had already proven resistant to purification.

If the big attacks will hit an innocent bystander, use the small ones, right?

That was the problem. The grass monster was fast and flexible enough to dodge even concerted fire, appeared to regenerate even from Sailor Mars's fire attacks whenever a hit was scored, and was apparently taking all comers who cared to challenge it in melee.

Saturn bit down on her lip. She wasn't really liking her conclusion. The rapid regeneration and totally mutable body structure implied a monster of the type that could only be harmed by its core, or being directly sustained by some kind of summoner. Either way, the park was a largely clear area, and neither summoner nor core was in sight. Considering the range of such things tended to be short...

Saturn's gaze turned involuntarily to the young woman at its feet. If things got desperate... she'd have to try it. She would _not_ lay that kind of burden on her 'parents'. It was her theory, and if someone had to suffer for it, it was only right that it be her.

Because she was already looking at the ground near the grass monster, she was the only one to see as its shadow began to coil around its feet... and then rush up its body, the blackness catching the surprised attention of the Senshi who were busily fighting it.

It twisted to take advantage of Pluto's sudden pause... and then froze, as if its shadow was... binding it?

"General terminology: Shadow," a voice whispered from behind her.

Saturn whirled, instinctively swinging her glaive. It met a black shaft, and stopped.

The one who'd casually blocked her attack stepped forward, out of the shadows of the trees.

"Origin: a side effect of Hunter scan methodology, taking over the host Talent's power." It was a girl. A Senshi, every part of her uniform but the bodysuit a dull black. Long blue hair fell down her back. Saturn shivered as she caught sight of her eyes - they were not human. Blue iris surrounded by a corona of darker blue, no apparent pupil, almost no white... that gaze was completely alien.

"Generally to be considered psychotic, they only last until the host Talent tires." Despite her alien looks and cold, precise voice, the strange Senshi looked to be a small thirteen - younger than _Hotaru_. A dead-black scythe hung in her right hand - she flicked the Silence Glaive away.

Her words were apparently proven as, still encased in its own shadow, the grass monster... slumped. Its shadow retreated, and it fell to the ground around the young woman it had stood over, mere grass once again.

"I'm not letting something like _that_ kill a Senshi. Dying to that means I'd have to waste another decade and a half on this damn planet!"

Sailor Pluto stared at the enigmatic girl, eyes widening in a mounting horror. "No... Sailor Shahal... It can't be..."

Sailor Shahal planted the butt of her scythe in the ground. "So I'm not going to kill you this time. Hurting you is another question entirely. Especially you, greenhair."

Pluto shuddered, pulling her staff in front of her protectively.

All the other Senshi took up battle stances - Saturn especially, she had a clear shot at the girl's unprotected back.

Unfortunately, the attack came from behind, as _their own_ shadows struck them.

Whirling to face the stream of blows, the Senshi managed to start blocking the attacks.

But now they'd left their backs open again.

Saturn hadn't been 'gifted' with an assailant. Much as she appreciated the gesture, she'd teach Shahal to forget about the Senshi of Destruction. She darted towards the blue-haired girl, thrusting her glaive at her back.

It went through, and she was momentarily convinced that she'd scored a hit, even though she hadn't felt the resistance she should.

Until, _with the blade sticking out both ends_, Sailor Shahal turned and smacked the glaive aside with her scythe. There was no wound. As if she simply hadn't been solid enough to hit.

And then Shahal was in her face, a hammerlike palm taking her in the sternum and blasting her back into a tree trunk, wood chips falling down around her. She sure _felt_ solid, though.

Saturn cringed and raised her glaive in a weak attempt at defense...

... as Shahal spun and headed for the engaged Senshi.

Weakly crying out a warning made them at least able to see the dark Senshi coming, as she slammed the side of the glaive's shaft into Pluto's raised staff, throwing the woman flying, her shadow resuming its proper place beneath her.

"World Shaking!" As the most skilled fighter, Sailor Uranus was the one to manage to get a reprieve from her opponent, slam her palm to the ground, and send a ball of energy at Sailor Shahal. It cost her, though, as her shadow regained the offensive and scored a few painful hits on her upper arms.

All eyes kept at least some focus on the attack, though - as the first attack any had been able to get off, it would be vital in probing this new opponent.

As it roared in, Sailor Shahal paused, watching it with those pupil-less eyes, scythe cocked back. When it was close enough, she lashed out, the ball of energy drawn into the scythe's blade the moment it touched it.

Angling the scythe behind her, she charged for Uranus's fight.

"Deep Submerge!" Neptune did _not_ have an opening. But putting herself up as a target dummy for her own shadow was worth it to buy Uranus a little time.

Spinning in midrun, Shahal snapped her left arm down, sending a tiny speck of blackness to meet the blue sphere of power.

Saturn expected one spell or the other to pass through and meet its target. Given how things were going - she winced as she pulled herself out of a schoolgirl-shaped dent in the tree - she expected Shahal's attack to win out.

But it met the Deep Submerge and just... vanished.

Then the Deep Submerge stopped and reversed, heading for Sailor Neptune instead.

Stuck between her aggressive shadow and her magical attack, Neptune froze, and was bowled over by the water blast.

The shadow seemed to change its mind about fighting her, after all - it dashed to meet Shahal, who lept into it.

Those watching Shahal from closer in had no idea where she'd gone. But Saturn had a distance view. She could see Shahal leap out of Sailor Pluto's shadow, whipping the scythe at the still-aerial Senshi. Pluto screamed as the curved blade tore through her back, hooking on a flap of flesh and letting Sailor Shahal slam her viciously into the grass.

The shadows fighting the Senshi seemed to slow down, lost focus, as Shahal got more into the beat-down she was giving Pluto.

Saturn, struggling tiredly towards them, had a perfect view as Shahal kicked Pluto's staff out of her hands, stomped a heeled boot onto her ribs, and raised the scythe for what looked like a killing blow.

But instead of swinging it down, the blade glowed orange, and a World Shaking sphere formed where the blade should be. Then it ripped off the blade, shoving a point-blank World Shaking into Pluto's face, breaking her nose and spraying blood across the grass.

"Pluto!" Sailor Moon cried. Her shadow redoubled its efforts as Shahal glanced at the leader of the Senshi, scoring a haymaker across her face.

Then Shahal... didn't actually do anything, but shifted her attention back to the gasping Senshi of Pluto. She flipped the scythe in her right hand, poking Pluto in the forehead with the butt. And then it sank in. It _wasn't_ raw force, it looked more like the insubstantiality Saturn had already run up against, but what was she doing?

A rose finally ripped through Tuxedo Kamen's shadow, returning it to its rightful place behind him. Quickly pulling around a dozen from his jacket, he set about helping the Senshi finish off their own opponents.

Sailor Shahal calmly pulled her scythe out of Pluto, and took her foot off the woman's chest. She snarled and kicked the Senshi up.

Pluto shakily regained her feet, extending her arms for balance.

Shahal growled and decked her across the face with the hand still holding the scythe, the weapon adding to the mass behind an already-crushing blow.

Pluto flew back, feet skipping across the ground under her.

Before she collapsed onto her back, Saturn was there, supporting her mother-figure and shooting a glare at the dark Senshi.

She saw out of the corner of her eyes as Uranus and Neptune crouched on either side of her, Talismans out.

She heard the grass rustle as Jupiter took up a kempo stance behind her.

She felt as Mercury, Venus, and Mars took positions framing them.

And then Sailor Moon's hand rested on her shoulder. Before anything else, Sailor Moon whispered, "Can you heal her?"

"I would not advise it," Shahal commented.

Sailor Moon glared at her. "And why not!"

"Don't hate me, girl." Her voice sounded unusually 'taut' as she whispered this. "I'm doing what has to be done."

"Why!" Neptune shouted. "Why do you have to do this!"

"Because you're Senshi!" Now she wasn't expressionless. She was angry. Someone had hit on a sore point. "You're Senshi, and that's why you need to die!"

"You're a Senshi too, moron!" That was what came to Mars's mind and mouth.

Sailor Shahal visibly schooled herself. "You're wrong. But you're just children. You can't be expected to know."

"Then why do we need to die?" Saturn whispered. This was uncomfortably reminiscent of fears of the Senshi of Destruction.

Shahal's eyes softened. "No. If you don't know your destiny, I will lay that burden upon you. I do not take pleasure in killing innocence. But rest assured, I will save you and this world from your destiny." A single leap took her back into the forest. Once she was in the shadows, she was gone.

So Sailor Moon's shout of "Wait!" was a little too late.

Saturn's lips tightened. So much for 'no major threats'.

As Pluto's transformation faded, turning the unconscious woman back to Meiou Setsuna, Saturn placed her hands over Setsuna's face. Most of the damage had been done around the head, despite hospitalization-worthy damage on the torso alone.

Sailor Shahal had told them not to try healing, yes. But Hotaru was more inclined to trust the power that had been the _only_ thing always with her than a strange and vicious Senshi.

-----------------------

Not even bothering to cover a yawn, Ranma awoke.

Or at least, he assumed he did. He was pretty sure he hadn't gone to sleep in a theater.

Dark and poorly lit. He saw no doors... or walls, really, the place just vanished into blackness after a little distance. To his back was where the doors would be expected, and a stringy red rug covered the stairs down into the depths of the amphitheatre. A huge amount of seats, but poorly maintained. He saw stuffing peeking out of more than half of the cushions.

But the seats, the walls, the lighting... those aren't what people go to the theater for.

The stage was raised slightly. The wood was light in colour, but poorly varnished, scratched and dented. The curtains were made of velvet, but ragged.

And on the stage... five thrones. Red and black thrones to the left. Blue and white to the right - these two were the most ornate, sporting carvings of branches and leaves across their surfaces. In the center throne, gray, there was a boy.

A boy like a wisp of smoke turned human. A slip of a boy, and only fourteen. Silvery hair brushed over his ears, pale skin, and he even _wore_ a smoke-gray uniform - short-sleeved and precisely-cut, it looked military. Gray eyes with flecks of half a dozen different colours in there fixed on Ranma, and the boy rose from his throne, more gracefully than even Ranma could.

There was nothing else to do. Ranma began to descend the stairs. Hopefully this kid would know something.

As Ranma came down the stairs, the boy crossed the stage, dropping off the slight rise and facing Ranma at the bottom of the stairs.

Nothing was said. Ranma had no idea what to say, and the boy didn't seem to want to.

"I expected you to come back," the boy suddenly stated.

"Uh... really?" Back? He'd never been here!

"I'd hoped you wouldn't."

"Sorry?"

"It would have been easier if you never returned."

Ranma smirked. Someone else blaming all their problems on him. Normal so far.

"But then, I'd come back. So I knew you would."

This was making no sense...

"It just adds to the delays I've already had. I'm sorry."

Ranma blinked... "What're ya apologizing for?"

"Your death, fake!" Only more than a decade of advanced martial arts training let Ranma bring his left arm up to block the spear-hand aimed for his throat as the boy was suddenly in front of him.

The boy flicked that hand away from where it had met the block, and Ranma winced as the skin split where he'd blocked, pouring out a trickle of blood. Then the hand came back in, a palm strike for his face.

Since blocking was bad, Ranma ducked outside of the blow. He should have a shot at the boy's back, especially if the guy overextended.

What he wasn't expecting was the boy to spin on himself, his left hand arcing toward Ranma's neck in a knife-hand strike.

Ducking it, Ranma was met with a crescent kick to the jaw, sending him flying into the seats.

Regaining his feet on a seat back, Ranma braced his left foot against the seat behind him just in time to recieve a viciously fast left palm on his crossed forearms, and he i_heard_/i his bones fracture.

He didn't see the boy's face. He was below!

Specifically, smashing his right palm into Ranma's right hip, feet braced across two rows of seats.

The leg lost all strength, collapsing under him, and Ranma pitched to the right, collapsing into the aisle.

There was no sound as the boy touched down in the aisle, flowing towards him.

Growling, Ranma waited until the kid came in range, then swept his legs out with his left leg.

Or at least, tried to. But the leg passed right through, and Ranma just ended up smacking it rather painfully into one of the legs of the seats.

He met eyes with the boy... who was gritting his teeth.

"Pathetic. You're pathetic."

Ranma smiled. He was saying something, so that was an improvement.

"So why..."

Ranma frowned. The kid seemed to be talking to himself more than Ranma.

"...did I..."

What was he saying?

"...lose?" The boy faded into the darkness of the theater.

"What the heck just happened?" Suddenly, he wasn't aching anymore. And he could move his right leg now.

His gaze caught the stage. There was something... compelling... about it. Beautiful.

He _wanted_ to be on it. And so, gathering himself, he lept toward it.

His feet touched the stage...

... and he left the theater.

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He still wasn't in his futon at the Tendou house, though.

Suddenly thankful that he'd been too tired to change out of his usual clothes, Ranma sagged against the alley wall he'd awoke leaning against. According to the sun in the sky, it was noon. And he knew it was a Saturday, so he was pretty much free for the rest of the day.

Good thing, too. Otherwise, he'd get in trouble for skipping school to see what he could figure out about his having sleepwalked till noon.

It was going to be a long day.

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Next: Chapter 2. Sapphire LifeStar.

A place in this world is lost. Desperate to reclaim it, he only hurts himself.

Wearing a face unfamiliar to him, his body changing without his control, there is no one he can turn to.

Their only source of answers in critical condition, the Senshi prepare to face their deadliest challenge yet...

The ticking hands of a time that is no longer theirs.

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Author's Notes

Well, the prodigal returns after half a bloody year...

Sorry about that. No real excuses, but hopefully I'll have some fixes. We shall soon see.

The writing style of some of the story is... odd. Even I consider it a little quirky, and I'm the one writing it! So tell me if it worked or not. Especially not. The first seven pages were written under sleep deprivation. I do wierd things when I'm tired. My writing looks off and unsatisfactory. Tell me if my impression is right or wrong.

The author is very open to criticism. The author also feels like speaking in the third person. The author can be contacted at (miraclewolf hotmail . com). Or by making a post where you read this.


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